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Consent: A Memoir
In this unflinching account of the ardent love affair between the author and her painting teacher, which began in the 1970s when she was a teenager and he was married with two children, Jill Ciment reflects on how their love ignited and interrogates her 1996 memoir on the subject, Half a Life. She asks herself whether she told the whole truth back then. What did truth look like to her in the era of love-bead curtains, when no one asked who was served by the permissibility of May-December romance? With new understanding about the imbalance of power between an older man and a minor girl, Ciment re-explores the erotic wild ride and intellectual flowering that shaped an improbable but blissful marriage that lasted for forty-five years, until her husband’s death at age ninety-three.
160 pages, Hardcover
First published June 11, 2024
About the author
Jill Ciment
12 books278 followersJill Ciment was born in Montreal, Canada. She is the author of Small Claims, a collection of short stories and novellas; The Law of Falling Bodies, Teeth of the Dog, The Tattoo Artist, and Heroic Measures, novels; and Half a Life, a memoir. She has been awarded a National Endowment for the Arts, a NEA Japan Fellowship Prize, two New York State Fellowships for the Arts, the Janet Heidinger Kafka Prize, and a Guggenheim Fellowship. Ciment is a professor at the University of Florida. She lives with her husband, Arnold Mesches, in Gainesville, Florida and Brooklyn, New York.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 125 reviews
June 22, 2024
A lovely, compact memoir reflecting upon a number of intriguing topics in a post-MeToo environment. The central dilemma is that celebrated author Jill Ciment began a relationship with her art teacher when she was sixteen and he was significantly older, married, and with two children. Eventually he divorced his wife to be with her, his much-younger lover. This was the 1970s.
Ciment married her art teacher and they remained, by her own admission, a largely successful power couple until his death. He a noteworthy painter, she a popular novelist. It wasn't until after MeToo that she began to ponder if there was anything diabolical about their relationship.
I agree with Ann Patchett that this memoir pairs well with another memoir I read recently, Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma. Both books come from a feminist, pro MeToo perspective, but also struggle with beloved figures who technically should be abolished in this new awakened state. For "Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma" the problematic figures are great artists with dark biographies. In Ciment's case, the figure is her own husband.
Neither book offers a solution to such internal struggles, but their rumination is perhaps more intriguing anyway. The truth is, there are no clear solutions. It's a very individual decision to make how one should feel about artists and their relationships.
If I had anything to critique about Consent it's that the titular issue isn't explored with as much reflection as I would like. It's clear by the end that Ciment had a wonderful relationship with her much-older husband and perhaps even relished a life where she was viewed as the "much younger" woman because her husband always had more wrinkles and sags than her, even as she herself grew old.
The book succeeds, however, as a case study and discussion starter. Should Ciment feel shame for her successful marriage to a man who, if he had done the same thing today, would be locked away in prison? Should all her happy memories that were, she believes, consensual from the beginning be replaced with trauma?
These are big questions that I think many people will relate to. The 1970s were very different from today, but anyone who had sexual encounters before 2017 are likely reflecting on how their experiences fit into a post-MeToo world. Such are the pangs of gaining wisdom. On one hand, a better understanding of the world is a good thing. On the other, becoming privy to injustice can be exhausting. Especially when it hits so close to home.
Overall, recommended reading!
Ciment married her art teacher and they remained, by her own admission, a largely successful power couple until his death. He a noteworthy painter, she a popular novelist. It wasn't until after MeToo that she began to ponder if there was anything diabolical about their relationship.
I agree with Ann Patchett that this memoir pairs well with another memoir I read recently, Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma. Both books come from a feminist, pro MeToo perspective, but also struggle with beloved figures who technically should be abolished in this new awakened state. For "Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma" the problematic figures are great artists with dark biographies. In Ciment's case, the figure is her own husband.
Neither book offers a solution to such internal struggles, but their rumination is perhaps more intriguing anyway. The truth is, there are no clear solutions. It's a very individual decision to make how one should feel about artists and their relationships.
If I had anything to critique about Consent it's that the titular issue isn't explored with as much reflection as I would like. It's clear by the end that Ciment had a wonderful relationship with her much-older husband and perhaps even relished a life where she was viewed as the "much younger" woman because her husband always had more wrinkles and sags than her, even as she herself grew old.
The book succeeds, however, as a case study and discussion starter. Should Ciment feel shame for her successful marriage to a man who, if he had done the same thing today, would be locked away in prison? Should all her happy memories that were, she believes, consensual from the beginning be replaced with trauma?
These are big questions that I think many people will relate to. The 1970s were very different from today, but anyone who had sexual encounters before 2017 are likely reflecting on how their experiences fit into a post-MeToo world. Such are the pangs of gaining wisdom. On one hand, a better understanding of the world is a good thing. On the other, becoming privy to injustice can be exhausting. Especially when it hits so close to home.
Overall, recommended reading!
May 23, 2024
Incredibly nuanced, brave and tender, all at once.
I’ve possibly never before read something so unflinchingly honest about the inevitable outcome of falling in love—one day, you will have to be without them again.
I finished in bed, next to my partner, and immediately sobbed into my hands.
What a privilege to have an author like Jill. To celebrate a novel like this enter the world.
Thank you to the publisher and netgalley for an early copy in exchange for a review!
I’ve possibly never before read something so unflinchingly honest about the inevitable outcome of falling in love—one day, you will have to be without them again.
I finished in bed, next to my partner, and immediately sobbed into my hands.
What a privilege to have an author like Jill. To celebrate a novel like this enter the world.
Thank you to the publisher and netgalley for an early copy in exchange for a review!
May 11, 2024
There are flashes of insight and beauty in this spare, skillfully written memoir. The love between the author and her husband is palpable; it shines through every page, in the quiet moments especially. I can feel her desire to protect him clash with her objective to critically examine the age gap and balance of power in their relationship. But she doesn’t seem to be interested in answering any of her own questions, though she poses some good ones. I almost hesitate to say that as criticism, because the long and short answer to all of those questions is “it’s complicated,” and while the answers are important for us as a culture to grapple with, in the context of this relationship they feel very much beside the point.
I think that neither the title nor the description of this book accurately reflect its most compelling revelations. This is the story of a long and successful marriage, distinct in its challenges and the sheer unlikelihood of it all, but not unfamiliar in its dynamics. This is not the typical experience of teenage girls who marry men 30 years their senior, obviously. I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn’t spent half the book expecting a more critical examination of memory in memoir or of age and consent, rather than a singular story of the very rare May-December relationship that actually works out in the end.
I think that neither the title nor the description of this book accurately reflect its most compelling revelations. This is the story of a long and successful marriage, distinct in its challenges and the sheer unlikelihood of it all, but not unfamiliar in its dynamics. This is not the typical experience of teenage girls who marry men 30 years their senior, obviously. I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn’t spent half the book expecting a more critical examination of memory in memoir or of age and consent, rather than a singular story of the very rare May-December relationship that actually works out in the end.
June 22, 2024
What do I call him? My husband? Arnold? I would if the story were about how we met and married, shared meals for forty-five years, raised a puppy, endured illnesses. But if the story is about an older man preying on a teenager, shouldn’t I call him “the artist,” or better still, “the art teacher,” with all the word teacher implies?
So begins the most unusual love story postmortem I have ever read. When they met, Jill was just 17, and the well-known painter Arnold Mesches, was 47. They stayed together until his death of leukemia 46 years later.
There is no question that the two had much in common. Both Jill and Arnold were exceptionally talented rule-breakers who embraced life according to their own needs and desires. Jill was a teenage girl from an unstable home, and Arnold? As a serial adulterer, he created unstable homes in his personal life.
The dynamic between them was so unusual that Jill Ciment, then in her mid-40s, wrote about it in her 1996 memoir, Half a Life. Now, in her 70s, Jill revisits and questions many of the memories of her younger self. “Does a kiss in one moment mean something else entirely five decades later? Can a love that starts with such an asymmetrical balance of power ever right itself?” Jill takes an unflinching look at the question that underlies all of it: was her husband a predator when he encouraged a relationship with a young and volatile teen?
Jill Ciment spares nothing in her examination of this marriage, including the disadvantages of dealing with the physical deterioration of a man certainly old enough to be her father. What’s interesting is the parts she alludes to but never completely owns: Arnold’s developmentally challenged daughter, whom she never appears particularly fond of. This memoir refuses to pass judgment on their long and satisfying marriage and collaboration, honoring both the good and mulling over the questionable aspects.
So begins the most unusual love story postmortem I have ever read. When they met, Jill was just 17, and the well-known painter Arnold Mesches, was 47. They stayed together until his death of leukemia 46 years later.
There is no question that the two had much in common. Both Jill and Arnold were exceptionally talented rule-breakers who embraced life according to their own needs and desires. Jill was a teenage girl from an unstable home, and Arnold? As a serial adulterer, he created unstable homes in his personal life.
The dynamic between them was so unusual that Jill Ciment, then in her mid-40s, wrote about it in her 1996 memoir, Half a Life. Now, in her 70s, Jill revisits and questions many of the memories of her younger self. “Does a kiss in one moment mean something else entirely five decades later? Can a love that starts with such an asymmetrical balance of power ever right itself?” Jill takes an unflinching look at the question that underlies all of it: was her husband a predator when he encouraged a relationship with a young and volatile teen?
Jill Ciment spares nothing in her examination of this marriage, including the disadvantages of dealing with the physical deterioration of a man certainly old enough to be her father. What’s interesting is the parts she alludes to but never completely owns: Arnold’s developmentally challenged daughter, whom she never appears particularly fond of. This memoir refuses to pass judgment on their long and satisfying marriage and collaboration, honoring both the good and mulling over the questionable aspects.
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July 7, 2024If I were to begin my review with a quote, it would be the last lines of this reflection of a marriage. This would be a spoiler so I'll not write it here but will keep it in my copy of my thoughts about this memoir.
I'm not quite certain what I was expecting but knew from reviews that it would be a book I'd read. Kirkus Reviews called it a "A hot bullet of a memoir". Some, including the author stated it was a post MeToo evaluation, and many quoted the opening paragraph "What do I call him? My husband? Arnold? I would if the story were about how we met and married, shared meals for forty-five years, raised a puppy, endured illnesses. But if the story is about an older man preying on a teenager, shouldn’t I call him “the artist,” or better still, “the art teacher,” with all the word teacher implies?".
What I do know is that Jill Ciment's story took me back many years to my teens and the crushes myself and others had on our most handsome teachers, and other older men who took an interest in us. Would it have been acceptable if any of these were to kiss, fondle or meet us outside of the classroom leading to a sexual relationship? Would our age make a difference at all? 16, 17, 18 or possibly younger?
When Jill Ciment met Arnold, she was 16, he 47 and her art teacher. I could easily understand her attraction to him as she explained those years. Did I understand him? Not from my age today but would I have thought it wrong at 16? Would I have encouraged this relationship if it were mine?
A thought provoking book. I wanted to know more.
I think it would be helpful for me to read Half A Life.
I have read Ciment's The Body in Question. Though at the time I had a hard time with this book, reading Consent actually gives me some insight about her novel.
Quoting from the summary of said book "Suddenly they look at one another through an altogether different lens, as things become more complicated . . ." as did Jill Ciment in her latest memoir of her marriage to Arnold.
I'm not quite certain what I was expecting but knew from reviews that it would be a book I'd read. Kirkus Reviews called it a "A hot bullet of a memoir". Some, including the author stated it was a post MeToo evaluation, and many quoted the opening paragraph "What do I call him? My husband? Arnold? I would if the story were about how we met and married, shared meals for forty-five years, raised a puppy, endured illnesses. But if the story is about an older man preying on a teenager, shouldn’t I call him “the artist,” or better still, “the art teacher,” with all the word teacher implies?".
What I do know is that Jill Ciment's story took me back many years to my teens and the crushes myself and others had on our most handsome teachers, and other older men who took an interest in us. Would it have been acceptable if any of these were to kiss, fondle or meet us outside of the classroom leading to a sexual relationship? Would our age make a difference at all? 16, 17, 18 or possibly younger?
When Jill Ciment met Arnold, she was 16, he 47 and her art teacher. I could easily understand her attraction to him as she explained those years. Did I understand him? Not from my age today but would I have thought it wrong at 16? Would I have encouraged this relationship if it were mine?
A thought provoking book. I wanted to know more.
I think it would be helpful for me to read Half A Life.
I have read Ciment's The Body in Question. Though at the time I had a hard time with this book, reading Consent actually gives me some insight about her novel.
Quoting from the summary of said book "Suddenly they look at one another through an altogether different lens, as things become more complicated . . ." as did Jill Ciment in her latest memoir of her marriage to Arnold.
March 24, 2024
Beautifully written, provocatively thoughtful, this memoir was a surprise. I read it quickly, captivated by the writer's inquisitive voice delving into her own story -- I was curious alongside her to sort out why she did what she did. On the surface, it does seem sordid, but in the end it read like a true love story. It was definitely a peek back into a different time and often I found myself thinking this could never happen now (at least not legally). I didn't want to like the characters, and yet they charmed me. There is so much to discuss here beyond the story itself-- like the authenticity of the writer and how it changes with time. As your perspective shifts, so does your story.
June 30, 2024
Enjoyable to read but it came off as—was—more of an addendum to/retread of/musing on her previous more in-depth memoir which I have not read, so I felt like there were important things I was missing. Kind of like a book two in a series, really.
June 20, 2024
I was reading a book review in The New York Times about this memoir when I realized the writer was Jill Ciment who had written “The Body in Question” which was a five star read for me. The review also noted some similarities between Ciment’s real life, married to a man thirty years her senior, and the main character’s life in the novel. Although I do not typically read memoirs, I was intrigued and decided to read it. It is an extremely short book and is sort of like a footnote to her first memoir about her journey to becoming an artist and writer. Where that book glossed over the origins of her teenage relationship with, artist Arnold Mesches, her husband of 45 years, this book provides a laser like focus on every detail.
Memories are a funny thing. There’s what happened to you and what you thought about it at the time, and then there’s how you remember it and what you think about it now. In 1997, Ciment’s relationship was portrayed as a great love story, but now, in the wake of the #metoo movement, she seems to be questioning everything. At one point in the story when Arnold goes blind in one eye from a surgery, he also becomes temporarily blind in his other eye. When Ciment asks the doctor why this happens, he replies “In Sympathy.” As a reader, you wonder if her blindness to whether she consented to the relationship was also in sympathy with how he viewed it at the time.
Although Ciment spends a significant amount of time examining the power dynamic between a 47 year-old art teacher and his 17 year-old student, she also looks at how this plays out years into their marriage - when he is an old man and she becomes his caretaker. At one point she thinks, “You are old and I am young and it should be my turn.” Later, her mother reminds her that while he is old enough to be her father, he’s not her parent and does not have to love her unconditionally. This theme continues on when Arnold questions whether he loves his own daughter anymore. A friend replies by saying that he thought he would never stop loving his boys and he never did, but after decades of not seeing them he does not love them as men. He only remembers them as boys and continues to love that version of them. I wondered if Ciment may have felt this way about her husband, only in reverse.
Near the end of the book she writes about the experience of schadenfreude when she sees other younger wives caring for their elderly husbands. It clicked with me that she may have felt that way all along; a kind of self-satisfaction, always thinking her love story was superior to the average person’s. Perhaps it was the #metoo movement that challenged this belief or just the process of aging and watching Arnold die. These questions may never be answered. However, on the last page of the book, Ciment writes about finding Arnold asleep on the bed “in the same position he was in when I went to seduce him forty-five years before.” An interesting ending that seems to reflect a conversation earlier in the story when Arnold says “all art is a reconsideration.” While this book reconsidered the first memoir, the reader is left to reconsider this version as well.
Memories are a funny thing. There’s what happened to you and what you thought about it at the time, and then there’s how you remember it and what you think about it now. In 1997, Ciment’s relationship was portrayed as a great love story, but now, in the wake of the #metoo movement, she seems to be questioning everything. At one point in the story when Arnold goes blind in one eye from a surgery, he also becomes temporarily blind in his other eye. When Ciment asks the doctor why this happens, he replies “In Sympathy.” As a reader, you wonder if her blindness to whether she consented to the relationship was also in sympathy with how he viewed it at the time.
Although Ciment spends a significant amount of time examining the power dynamic between a 47 year-old art teacher and his 17 year-old student, she also looks at how this plays out years into their marriage - when he is an old man and she becomes his caretaker. At one point she thinks, “You are old and I am young and it should be my turn.” Later, her mother reminds her that while he is old enough to be her father, he’s not her parent and does not have to love her unconditionally. This theme continues on when Arnold questions whether he loves his own daughter anymore. A friend replies by saying that he thought he would never stop loving his boys and he never did, but after decades of not seeing them he does not love them as men. He only remembers them as boys and continues to love that version of them. I wondered if Ciment may have felt this way about her husband, only in reverse.
Near the end of the book she writes about the experience of schadenfreude when she sees other younger wives caring for their elderly husbands. It clicked with me that she may have felt that way all along; a kind of self-satisfaction, always thinking her love story was superior to the average person’s. Perhaps it was the #metoo movement that challenged this belief or just the process of aging and watching Arnold die. These questions may never be answered. However, on the last page of the book, Ciment writes about finding Arnold asleep on the bed “in the same position he was in when I went to seduce him forty-five years before.” An interesting ending that seems to reflect a conversation earlier in the story when Arnold says “all art is a reconsideration.” While this book reconsidered the first memoir, the reader is left to reconsider this version as well.
July 19, 2024
A lot of this memoir didn’t land well for me. I didn’t find the writing to be exceptional or anything to write home about but it was written well enough for me to finish (though I do suspect this was due in part to its short length—145 pages in my hardcover copy—otherwise I likely would have set it aside).
Ciment spends a lot of time in this memoir referencing her past memoir—where she positively recounts her relationship with a man 30 years her senior—and dissects it, saying “now see here… here I wasn’t being truthful”. I’m paraphrasing but you get it. She also spends so much time picking apart the actual structure and art of memoir, ultimately suggesting that you can’t trust it: “A memoir is closer to historical fiction than it is to biography.”
So what is the truth in this memoir and what is a lie when she openly admits that she was lying previously and did so with the intention to sway readers? Are readers just supposed to take everything at face value? I personally think she made herself too much of an “unreliable narrator” in her own story and created too much of a divide in her own narrative and it turned me away from the root issue. It's clear that Ciment still grapples with what was right and what was wrong within her marriage to this man so perhaps all of this was intentional... For readers to grapple with her? I'm not certain.
For me, this had promise of being a thought-provoking exploration of, what is today, considered a rather taboo relationship but it fell short in its execution.
Ciment spends a lot of time in this memoir referencing her past memoir—where she positively recounts her relationship with a man 30 years her senior—and dissects it, saying “now see here… here I wasn’t being truthful”. I’m paraphrasing but you get it. She also spends so much time picking apart the actual structure and art of memoir, ultimately suggesting that you can’t trust it: “A memoir is closer to historical fiction than it is to biography.”
So what is the truth in this memoir and what is a lie when she openly admits that she was lying previously and did so with the intention to sway readers? Are readers just supposed to take everything at face value? I personally think she made herself too much of an “unreliable narrator” in her own story and created too much of a divide in her own narrative and it turned me away from the root issue. It's clear that Ciment still grapples with what was right and what was wrong within her marriage to this man so perhaps all of this was intentional... For readers to grapple with her? I'm not certain.
For me, this had promise of being a thought-provoking exploration of, what is today, considered a rather taboo relationship but it fell short in its execution.
July 14, 2024
My Interest
I have long been fascinated by older man–younger woman relationships, but not the “Sugar Daddy” or “Trophy Wife” variety. But most of those occurred generations ago. President Grover Cleveland (may he ever remain our only president to serve non-consecutive terms) married his young ward at the White House. And the professor-student story is favorite to explore, too. I had a massive crush on one professor, but happily I was too socially award to be asked to express that crush.
Jill Ciment had a father who “lost it” in today’s parlance and so did I, though my Dad was “only” massively depressed. He did not leave us, remained a decent enough Dad for that day and brought home a good paycheck throughout. Thankfully, unlike Jill, I had a strong Mom and good big brother and caring relatives.
To read Jill’s new memoir, Consent, you almost need to back up and read at least the synopsis of her first memoir, Half a Life. Young Jill was not a normal high school girl like me, playing in the band, having a group of friends, having hobbies, and either escaping on my 10 speed bike or playing my classical, jazz, Beatles, or classical music in my room with the door locked when life got too much. She shared a bed with her mom. Not just a room–a bed. The former marital bed.
The Story
At 17, Jill sleeps with her art instructor. Then he leaves his wife and family for her and they manage to stay married for 40+ years. Fast-forward to today and #Metoo. She looks back at her relationship with her husband of 40+ years to see if she truly gave consent.
My Thoughts
Call me jaded but this book just reeks of needing to make money. WHY would any tell every graphic detail of your early sex life with your spouse? Why re-think a marriage you stayed in for 40+ years? Putting it all “through the lens of #metoo culture” and giving yourself “agency” to rethink and re-evaluate seems to me like morbid, self-indulgent, navel gazing. Money and awards are about the only reasons I can come up with. Being so explicit will get this nominated for all kinds of awards and it is being hyped a lot.
Arnold, her husband, objected at first, rightly saying she was too young. But, even though he had a wife he slept with and a mistress his own age that he slept with, he did not have the will power just end it with Jill right then and there and say “I’ll find you another teacher–this is too much for me.” Nope hopped right in the sack. And now Jill can’t really say if she made the first move or if he did??? WT??
Had all this happened to a 17 year old Jill bar hopping on a fake i.d. in a college town and hooking up with a 30-something grad student we’d never have heard about it. But this guy was an actual working, breathing, earning, artist of 47. And while the 70s were far more liberal than the past, only movie stars or groupies of some sort and some gold diggers were hooking up with men older than their parents. Jill ALSO knew this was wrong at the time, but thought it would help her as an “artist.” Women, sadly, still make moves like this to help their careers though not nearly as often thanks, in part, to #metoo.
I found this so memoir so difficult to endure I asked for my money back. The writing was fine. The vapid re-thinking of everything was too much.
I have long been fascinated by older man–younger woman relationships, but not the “Sugar Daddy” or “Trophy Wife” variety. But most of those occurred generations ago. President Grover Cleveland (may he ever remain our only president to serve non-consecutive terms) married his young ward at the White House. And the professor-student story is favorite to explore, too. I had a massive crush on one professor, but happily I was too socially award to be asked to express that crush.
Jill Ciment had a father who “lost it” in today’s parlance and so did I, though my Dad was “only” massively depressed. He did not leave us, remained a decent enough Dad for that day and brought home a good paycheck throughout. Thankfully, unlike Jill, I had a strong Mom and good big brother and caring relatives.
To read Jill’s new memoir, Consent, you almost need to back up and read at least the synopsis of her first memoir, Half a Life. Young Jill was not a normal high school girl like me, playing in the band, having a group of friends, having hobbies, and either escaping on my 10 speed bike or playing my classical, jazz, Beatles, or classical music in my room with the door locked when life got too much. She shared a bed with her mom. Not just a room–a bed. The former marital bed.
The Story
At 17, Jill sleeps with her art instructor. Then he leaves his wife and family for her and they manage to stay married for 40+ years. Fast-forward to today and #Metoo. She looks back at her relationship with her husband of 40+ years to see if she truly gave consent.
My Thoughts
Call me jaded but this book just reeks of needing to make money. WHY would any tell every graphic detail of your early sex life with your spouse? Why re-think a marriage you stayed in for 40+ years? Putting it all “through the lens of #metoo culture” and giving yourself “agency” to rethink and re-evaluate seems to me like morbid, self-indulgent, navel gazing. Money and awards are about the only reasons I can come up with. Being so explicit will get this nominated for all kinds of awards and it is being hyped a lot.
Arnold, her husband, objected at first, rightly saying she was too young. But, even though he had a wife he slept with and a mistress his own age that he slept with, he did not have the will power just end it with Jill right then and there and say “I’ll find you another teacher–this is too much for me.” Nope hopped right in the sack. And now Jill can’t really say if she made the first move or if he did??? WT??
Had all this happened to a 17 year old Jill bar hopping on a fake i.d. in a college town and hooking up with a 30-something grad student we’d never have heard about it. But this guy was an actual working, breathing, earning, artist of 47. And while the 70s were far more liberal than the past, only movie stars or groupies of some sort and some gold diggers were hooking up with men older than their parents. Jill ALSO knew this was wrong at the time, but thought it would help her as an “artist.” Women, sadly, still make moves like this to help their careers though not nearly as often thanks, in part, to #metoo.
I found this so memoir so difficult to endure I asked for my money back. The writing was fine. The vapid re-thinking of everything was too much.
June 24, 2024
This memoir is the author's look back at a marriage that lasted for decades but where there was a thirty-year age difference between the author and her husband, who'd left his first wife for this extremely young woman. Thirty years (or so) into their relationship, she wrote a memoir and now, many years later, she reconsiders the relationship, questioning whether there was any way she was capable of giving consent to him since he was her art teacher when they met, so she wrote this second memoir as an exploration of her more mature conclusions.
I think it's hard for younger people to understand the 1970s/1980s as a time when older men often disregarded what might an ethical choice to NOT seduce teenagers even though they really wanted to. So when we say, "It was a different time," we might not be excusing what happened but trying instead to make sense of the sexual politics back then. That's what the author's trying to do, too, to understand her part of what turned out to be a very long and sometimes happy marriage. I'm not sure the memoir is settled history, but her process is interesting to read.
I think it's hard for younger people to understand the 1970s/1980s as a time when older men often disregarded what might an ethical choice to NOT seduce teenagers even though they really wanted to. So when we say, "It was a different time," we might not be excusing what happened but trying instead to make sense of the sexual politics back then. That's what the author's trying to do, too, to understand her part of what turned out to be a very long and sometimes happy marriage. I'm not sure the memoir is settled history, but her process is interesting to read.
July 4, 2024
A tender revisionist memoir about how we perceive our choices and experiences over time. Ciment explores the fragility of memory and asks important questions about how we can relate to those who are so inherently different from ourselves. I do think it errs on the side of grooming apologism, but to write the whole memoir off with rose coloured glasses is to deny the very work Ciment aims to do in revising her previous writings on the topic. A tough read, but a worthwhile one.
June 16, 2024
Fascinating.
July 4, 2024
I need to sit in silence for a while
May 23, 2024
Not sure what I expected when I received this book as a giveaway winner but I found Jill's memoir so well written I could not put it down and finished it in one day.
Jill talks of many hard to read topics in this book that she looks back on in a way that not only shows she really thought about a lot of these things she went through in retrospect but also pushes the reader to look at things as well
Jill talks of many hard to read topics in this book that she looks back on in a way that not only shows she really thought about a lot of these things she went through in retrospect but also pushes the reader to look at things as well
June 16, 2024
This book was well written and the story was interesting. I'm not sure it was for me though. I know that the author was in love with him, but I just couldn't get passed him being a creep. Married with a mistress, and then with her. It just didn't set well with me; BUT, to each his own. For me, she just didn't convey how great he was. He just sounded like a guy she got with and she could have done better. I hope she does.
March 14, 2024
Thank you Net Galley!
June 27, 2024
|| CONSENT ||
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"Sometimes a writer gets stuck because she is at a loss as to what comes next. Sometimes a writer knows too much about what comes next and is paralyzed by her own puny prophecies. I was both."
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"Some writers her voices dictating to them, others spy on their fellow mortals through a keyhole, while still others, like myself, worm into their protagonist's mind to stand sentury at the door of consciousness. How do I convey yearning for a kiss well at the same time acknowledge the predatory act of an older man kissing a teenager? Perhaps had I been the type of writer who peeked at her characters through the keyhole, I would have seen a middle-aged man kissing an underaged girl. I might have been repelled by what I saw and written a different scene. But I was inside the girl, yearning for the kiss. I had intended to write the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but I could not find it, or else I found it everywhere."
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"The point of view and a memoir is curious. The writer must trick the reader and yourself into believing that she actually remembers so she felt decades ago. And then bar is closer to historical fiction than it is to biography. And as with historical fiction the reader often learns more about the period in which the book was written and then the period that is being written about."
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"Should I be calling it our affair? Wasn't it his affair? When a seventeen-year-old dated someone exclusive in those days---it was still 1970 until midnight---she wasn't having an affair; she was going steady."
✍🏻
What a facinating, provocative, beautifully written memoir that explores memory, stories we tell ourselves, May-December relationships in a post MeToo world, art and love. How have I not read Ciment before?! Highly recommend!.
For more of my book content check out instagram.com/bookalong
•
"Sometimes a writer gets stuck because she is at a loss as to what comes next. Sometimes a writer knows too much about what comes next and is paralyzed by her own puny prophecies. I was both."
•
"Some writers her voices dictating to them, others spy on their fellow mortals through a keyhole, while still others, like myself, worm into their protagonist's mind to stand sentury at the door of consciousness. How do I convey yearning for a kiss well at the same time acknowledge the predatory act of an older man kissing a teenager? Perhaps had I been the type of writer who peeked at her characters through the keyhole, I would have seen a middle-aged man kissing an underaged girl. I might have been repelled by what I saw and written a different scene. But I was inside the girl, yearning for the kiss. I had intended to write the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but I could not find it, or else I found it everywhere."
•
"The point of view and a memoir is curious. The writer must trick the reader and yourself into believing that she actually remembers so she felt decades ago. And then bar is closer to historical fiction than it is to biography. And as with historical fiction the reader often learns more about the period in which the book was written and then the period that is being written about."
•
"Should I be calling it our affair? Wasn't it his affair? When a seventeen-year-old dated someone exclusive in those days---it was still 1970 until midnight---she wasn't having an affair; she was going steady."
✍🏻
What a facinating, provocative, beautifully written memoir that explores memory, stories we tell ourselves, May-December relationships in a post MeToo world, art and love. How have I not read Ciment before?! Highly recommend!.
For more of my book content check out instagram.com/bookalong
July 10, 2024
Ciment is clearly very talented in this exploration of memory versus storytelling in a reconciliation against reality. But while this novel is depicted as a revision of Ciment's prior memoir illustrating her marriage, I can't help but think of Consent as anything but circular.
Even in the last words of the book, Ciment writes that she, once a 17 year old girl, "seduced" a 40-something year old man when referencing the position he now resides in as he lays dying. It's fair to say that Ciment is still processing their relationship but to frame the initiation of it as an independent pursuit of her own when she was merely a teenager is inherently deleterious. It seems difficult for Ciment to conceptualize how that their power dynamic could be considered material in the setting of the 1970s as compared to now in the wake of #MeToo etc. But the truth of the matter is that abuse exists regardless of cultural context — grooming is not an anachronism to be excused by the time period of its existence.
What's worse is that Consent also mentions that Ciment's younger brother survived an instance of sexual abuse as a child. Ciment's mother, who also knew of the relationship between her teenage daughter and the older man, is justifiably enraged about her son's suffering and reports the incident to the authorities. With the inclusion of this recounting, the reader is left with the impression that there is a particular sort of abuse that is plainly acknowledged as vile — one where the victim is a young child, a boy nonetheless. (Even the authorities in this memory reiterate this message as one tells the mother that she's "lucky" it was her son and not her daughter, as boys are always believed.)
By sharing this moment in her book, and even mentioning that the older man was present with Ciment's family as they reported the sexual abuse, the intention of its inclusion becomes evident: there is a certain type of acceptable abuse, and Ciment's experience of grooming simply sits outside of that mold.
Anyway, there are other books that explore the trauma of grooming / abuse candidly without apologizing on behalf of groomers. Highly recommend Consent by Vanessa Springora, Excavation by Wendy C. Ortiz, and My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell.
Even in the last words of the book, Ciment writes that she, once a 17 year old girl, "seduced" a 40-something year old man when referencing the position he now resides in as he lays dying. It's fair to say that Ciment is still processing their relationship but to frame the initiation of it as an independent pursuit of her own when she was merely a teenager is inherently deleterious. It seems difficult for Ciment to conceptualize how that their power dynamic could be considered material in the setting of the 1970s as compared to now in the wake of #MeToo etc. But the truth of the matter is that abuse exists regardless of cultural context — grooming is not an anachronism to be excused by the time period of its existence.
What's worse is that Consent also mentions that Ciment's younger brother survived an instance of sexual abuse as a child. Ciment's mother, who also knew of the relationship between her teenage daughter and the older man, is justifiably enraged about her son's suffering and reports the incident to the authorities. With the inclusion of this recounting, the reader is left with the impression that there is a particular sort of abuse that is plainly acknowledged as vile — one where the victim is a young child, a boy nonetheless. (Even the authorities in this memory reiterate this message as one tells the mother that she's "lucky" it was her son and not her daughter, as boys are always believed.)
By sharing this moment in her book, and even mentioning that the older man was present with Ciment's family as they reported the sexual abuse, the intention of its inclusion becomes evident: there is a certain type of acceptable abuse, and Ciment's experience of grooming simply sits outside of that mold.
Anyway, there are other books that explore the trauma of grooming / abuse candidly without apologizing on behalf of groomers. Highly recommend Consent by Vanessa Springora, Excavation by Wendy C. Ortiz, and My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell.
June 17, 2024
Kinda two books in one. The first third (which I enjoyed more) was a memoir about the writing of a prior memoir that reassessed a student/teacher relationship that was certainly grooming no matter how long they ended up being married for. The rest was an analysis of a life married to an older man. This was a really interesting book to read.
July 21, 2024
i’ve never gotten a chance to read something like this: a reflection on a long life as the much-younger partner in a duo where they met and began their relationship as a 16 year old and 40-something, respectively.
i admit i was curious about this book as a spectacle but jill ciment’s writing and care for her husband made the reading experience compassionate, nuanced, and observant. worth the read imo
i admit i was curious about this book as a spectacle but jill ciment’s writing and care for her husband made the reading experience compassionate, nuanced, and observant. worth the read imo
June 17, 2024
less about the me too movement than i thought but she reflects a lot about her life, a very extended piece about if the ends justifies the means (a happy marriage with grooming) but it’s complicated,,,,,,,, not sure what the answer was honestly but it was an interesting read
June 26, 2024
Had zero knowledge of who this person was or of their previous memoir (which she spends a good portion of this book "rewriting") and it was still THAT good.
Moving, gorgeously written, and brave. Exactly what it needed to be.
Moving, gorgeously written, and brave. Exactly what it needed to be.
July 6, 2024
Strong but simple exploration of a marriage that began when the author was 17 and her husband was 47. Wanted it to be longer, probe more. Still enjoyed.
June 12, 2024
Likely much too nuanced for most of the internet.
June 19, 2024
Oddly cruel in regards to Arnold’s daughter? There’s another story there, I think.
May 16, 2024
This is in part a memoir of a memoir. Another part is the end of what Ciment calls "an April-December" relationship that she had with her husband who was a generation older. I really enjoyed The Body in Question which I read a few years ago. This book had lovely writing, but the idea of consent was either underdeveloped or not central to the memoir. In today's climate, the relationship would cause pause, but that idea is not explored in depth. It is still an intriguing writing exercise both to examine a previous memoir and to look at how society viewed the relationship which lasted for more than 40 years.
July 13, 2024
Great book with a perfect final sentence. It's not filled with (appropriate) feminist anger like Vanessa Springora's "Consent: A Memoir, a book that I still think about long after reading it. In that one, a famous artist grooms the author as a 13-year-old and gets her to write him love letters so that he can show she consented. In this one, the author is 17 when she falls in love with her married-with-children art teacher who is 30 years older. Does she seduce him? Does the power dynamic automatically make their relationship inappropriate, like Amia Srinivasan argues in "The Right to Sex: Feminism in the Twenty-First Century"?
The author — who already wrote a memoir plus a fiction book based on their relationship — revisits her feelings post-#MeToo and she still loves him. They spent 45 years together. Here's a difference in the sexes: Can you imagine a man with a female partner who's 30 years older and caring for them as they become more feeble?
There's a section where the author describes trading knowing glances with other women who have much older partners, helping them in and out of taxis, etc. There's a poignancy and deep love. These aren't gold-diggers or brainless bimbos, but woman who made choices they are content with.
Even at 17, the author remembers being turned off by her lover's sagging neck skin. But she loved him. He mentored her, but she also taught him. She became the successful writer she is in part because of him — with Diane Keaton and Morgan Freeman portraying their relationship in a movie.
I couldn't help but think at times of Max Von Sydow and Barbara Hershey's relationship in "Hannah & Her Sisters." He's a famous painter and she his young partner. When she breaks up with him, he says, "Does it have to be today?" But before she can answer, he shakes off any response. He knew this day would come. In this book, that day never comes. She remains smart, willful, brilliant, self-reflective and she stands by the great man as his art goes in and out of and back in favor. (The book's cover — a painting of her by him — is stunning.)
This memoir's tension comes from the author revisiting how she interpreted their relationship over the years, as written down in her diaries and published books. What did she get wrong? Did she let down her team (feminists)? An easy book that might sell better would have her taking everything back and saying, yeah, he was a creep and I was a victim. She definitely sees issues but her conclusions are much more nuanced and interesting. A fast, fascinating read. And that final page, damn.
The author — who already wrote a memoir plus a fiction book based on their relationship — revisits her feelings post-#MeToo and she still loves him. They spent 45 years together. Here's a difference in the sexes: Can you imagine a man with a female partner who's 30 years older and caring for them as they become more feeble?
There's a section where the author describes trading knowing glances with other women who have much older partners, helping them in and out of taxis, etc. There's a poignancy and deep love. These aren't gold-diggers or brainless bimbos, but woman who made choices they are content with.
Even at 17, the author remembers being turned off by her lover's sagging neck skin. But she loved him. He mentored her, but she also taught him. She became the successful writer she is in part because of him — with Diane Keaton and Morgan Freeman portraying their relationship in a movie.
I couldn't help but think at times of Max Von Sydow and Barbara Hershey's relationship in "Hannah & Her Sisters." He's a famous painter and she his young partner. When she breaks up with him, he says, "Does it have to be today?" But before she can answer, he shakes off any response. He knew this day would come. In this book, that day never comes. She remains smart, willful, brilliant, self-reflective and she stands by the great man as his art goes in and out of and back in favor. (The book's cover — a painting of her by him — is stunning.)
This memoir's tension comes from the author revisiting how she interpreted their relationship over the years, as written down in her diaries and published books. What did she get wrong? Did she let down her team (feminists)? An easy book that might sell better would have her taking everything back and saying, yeah, he was a creep and I was a victim. She definitely sees issues but her conclusions are much more nuanced and interesting. A fast, fascinating read. And that final page, damn.
June 27, 2024
I had to sit on this one for awhile. Consent by Jill Ciment is a memoir of a woman interrogating her relationship with a man she met when she was 16 and he was 47, married with two children. They ended up getting married and stayed married until his death at 91 years old. He was popular artist and writer. She is also an accomplished author. Now that she is in her 50s, she evaluates their relationship by reflecting on a memoir she wrote while he was still alive and adding more context to her story in light of the more contemporary views of the “me too” era. The memoir is a deep interrogation of a difficult subject from a unique perspective.
Jill was an art student and he was her teacher. In this memoir she takes us through the very uncomfortable details of their inappropriate encounters and poses questions and reflections. “Did I make the first move?” “Who kissed who first” “was he grooming me?” “Why was I attracted to him.” Each point of reflection doesn’t offer a resolution, and I believe this was purposeful. Jill succeeds on leaving it up to you to decide your stance by asking the right questions and including her real and honest feelings about Arnold. Some of those feelings were tough to read. She often makes declarations on how she would notice how old he was and how it even disgusted her.
Its brave. Sometimes she flat out quotes a few lines in her former memoir and admits she left some things out. She also mentions his ex wife and daughter who is the same age as her. She speaks about the irony of the fraught relationship with her dad (who is the same age as author) and how her younger brother was being sexually abused by an older man, her mother’s boyfriend.
Overall, this is an extremely well written memoir, but it’s not for everyone. I think a lot of people will be suspicious of Jill’s motive for writing this memoir because of how open ended it is. Her decision to not be resolute on the nature of her relationship with Arnold is sure to be an understandable criticism of this novel. But I don’t think anybody can argue that it’s not insightful, but I was honestly quite disturbed by it sometimes. It’s a short read, but a heavy one nonetheless.
Jill was an art student and he was her teacher. In this memoir she takes us through the very uncomfortable details of their inappropriate encounters and poses questions and reflections. “Did I make the first move?” “Who kissed who first” “was he grooming me?” “Why was I attracted to him.” Each point of reflection doesn’t offer a resolution, and I believe this was purposeful. Jill succeeds on leaving it up to you to decide your stance by asking the right questions and including her real and honest feelings about Arnold. Some of those feelings were tough to read. She often makes declarations on how she would notice how old he was and how it even disgusted her.
Its brave. Sometimes she flat out quotes a few lines in her former memoir and admits she left some things out. She also mentions his ex wife and daughter who is the same age as her. She speaks about the irony of the fraught relationship with her dad (who is the same age as author) and how her younger brother was being sexually abused by an older man, her mother’s boyfriend.
Overall, this is an extremely well written memoir, but it’s not for everyone. I think a lot of people will be suspicious of Jill’s motive for writing this memoir because of how open ended it is. Her decision to not be resolute on the nature of her relationship with Arnold is sure to be an understandable criticism of this novel. But I don’t think anybody can argue that it’s not insightful, but I was honestly quite disturbed by it sometimes. It’s a short read, but a heavy one nonetheless.
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